


First Blood

by gettingby



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Blood Drinking, F/F, Female Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Masturbation, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation, Oral Sex, Period Sex, Vampire Sex, Watford Eighth Year, fem!SnowBaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29767914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gettingby/pseuds/gettingby
Summary: Fem!SnowBazI assumed that Snow, because she’s a human and not a vampire, had been menstruating regularly for most of the time we’ve been roommates.I assumed that there was something unappealing about period blood to vampires, and didn’t worry about it again.I was wrong. I wassovery wrong.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 16
Kudos: 71





	First Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warnings - this gets pretty into it with the period blood.
> 
> dedicated to [pendragonarrthur](http://pendragonarrthur.tumblr.com) on tumblr!
> 
> Thanks to Mad for the brainstorm and Ann for the beta read 🥰

SIMON

I rarely sleep through the night.

Because of the nightmares. But instead of the memory of the Humdrum kidnapping Penny and me, it’s a strange pulling feeling in my stomach that wakes me this time.

I get up to use the loo, and when I pull my pants down, it’s there - a spot of bright red blood.

Fuck.

I’ll probably need to bin these pants. Good thing they, like the rest of my pants, are in terrible condition. (I’m focusing on the bin, I think, because I can’t focus on the reality of what’s actually happening.) 

I’m eighteen years old, and I’ve never had a period before.

I know what one is, thanks to Penny, but as my twelfth, fifteenth, seventeenth birthday had passed, I’d pretty much assumed it wasn’t something I’d be able to do. And maybe that would have some negative bearing on my ability to achieve the happily ever after I thought I wanted. But I didn’t have time to think about it.

Dr. Wellbelove checked everything out for me, anyway - stuck the cold metal clamp inside me, drew my blood and did all the tests, and in the end he told me that I’d need to maintain higher body fat, or I wouldn’t have periods.

Well, it’s not like I didn’t eat ravenously. It was out of my control, the swings from chubby to waif-like from year to year.

Well...either I’m a hell of a late bloomer, or I’ve finally eaten enough scones to achieve puberty. Whatever’s going on down there has sprung into action.

I step into the en-suite’s shower, and use the detachable head to wash off the blood between my thighs. Then I stuff a bunch of loo roll up _there_ and crawl back into bed. In the morning, I can ask Penny to lend me some tampons.

This time, I fall asleep easily, and I don’t wake up again that night.

BAZ

At some point, I woke up last night, and I haven’t been able to go back to sleep.

At first, I think that Snow has come back from some middle-of-the-night mission with an injury, but I quickly ascertain that it’s not the case.

I assumed that Snow, because she’s a human and not a vampire, had been menstruating regularly for most of the time we’ve been roommates. When I came into my vampirism, I was worried about being in the proximity of all that blood, but my desire to drain her dry had more to do with the fact that I was in love with her than anything else. I assumed that there was something unappealing about period blood to vampires, and didn’t worry about it again.

I was wrong. I was _so_ very wrong.

I’ve been lying in bed for the last hour. My mouth is watering around my fangs. The air is thick with the smell of Simon’s blood, so much that I can taste it. I know I should get up, run to the Catacombs, and hide...but it’s too good. I can’t convince myself to walk away from it quite yet.

I squeeze my thighs together for some kind of pressure. I close my eyes and wait for Snow to wake up and leave the room so I can wank furiously and move on with my day.

She wakes up eventually, but she doesn’t leave. Instead she goes into the en-suite and turns on the shower, which I suppose makes sense. I slip a hand into my pants and find I’ve nearly soaked them through.

It barely takes a minute, surrounded by the smell of Simon and her blood and the image of her naked in the shower, for me to come harder than I’ve ever done in my life.

When I come down from the high of my orgasm, I feel dirtier than usual. Wanking to Snow barely registers as something I should feel guilty about anymore. Wanking to her while she’s in our room just gets me off _more_. (I’m disturbed.) Wanting to drink her blood, even, is something I’ve made a tenuous peace with by the age of 19.

Drinking her blood _there_ , though - it makes my skin prickle all over when I think about how much I want it.

I try to put it out of my mind. I spend longer than usual in the catacombs, because suddenly my thirst for blood has spiked. (It barely takes the edge off, unfortunately.) I avoid the room as much as possible.

I briefly consider eating one of her tampons. Then I immediately toss that idea in the rubbish, where it, along with used tampons, belong. I have _some_ pride.

SIMON

Baz is acting suspicious.

She’s always acting suspicious, but this is worse. She’s avoiding me like it’s fifth year all over again, only scarier, because it’s eighth year. We might actually have to fight each other, if whispers of war morph into open hostility. Truce or no truce, I need to be on my guard.

I’ve been tailing her to the Catacombs. She sleeps there, sometimes. Or in Dev and Niall’s room, which is two floors below ours. (I woke up early enough one day that I caught her sneaking out.) She even uses the communal showers sometimes, which I’ve never seen her do in eight years.

It’s strange. It’s almost like she’s trying not to be alone with me, specifically. If I didn’t know that Baz isn’t scared of anything, I’d say she’s scared of _me_. 

The day I catch her in the Wavering Wood, I’m not even trying to find her. I’m just wandering through it aimlessly, trying to work off some of the anxiety I’ve been having about the Mage’s absence and the Humdrum and everything else. It’s just my luck that I catch sight of her through the trees.

I follow her, obviously.

I don’t know where she’s going, but it’s deep into the Wood. I’m probably one of the only students who’s gone this far before, and only when I had to to rescue Elspeth from that cave. Baz isn’t familiar with the terrain, most likely. I have no idea what she’s doing in such a dangerous place.

Not that I’m worried about her. I just need to figure out what evil she’s up to in the dark parts of the Wood.

I can tell, after about half an hour, that she’s got no idea where she’s going. We’ve doubled back and gone in circles several times, so she’s probably planning to rely on magic to lead her back out. Not something I’d do, even if I were as good at spells as she is — magic gets wonky out here sometimes.

Finally, she stops, and crouches down. I hold my breath. I can feel the anticipation in the air. Something is about to go down.

She darts out of her hiding place with inhuman grace and speed. She’s slit the deer’s throat before I even noticed it was there.

And she’s drinking from it, deeply.

I’m frozen. I can’t believe it. Finally, after so long, I have _proof_.

Not that anyone’s going to believe me. Strange creatures lurk in these woods; a bloodless deer carcass would have a multitude of explanations. I wish I had a smartphone so I could take a picture, at least.

Instead, I summon the Sword of Mages. I try to be as quiet as I can, but Baz hears me anyway. She drops the carcass and pulls out her wand, assuming a defensive posture.

“I know you’re there, Snow,” she snaps.

I trample a lot of plants in my hurry to get within sword-length of her, before she can fire off a spell that’ll finish me off. A dead deer wouldn’t rouse suspicion this deep in the Wood - a dead Chosen One might never be _discovered_.

Was this her plan all along? To lure me here, where no one will find me, and finish me off? Did she let me see her feeding, because she knew it wouldn’t matter once I was dead?

She’s already summoned a flame, and I’m about to lunge, when a cloud of glitter and leaves explodes between us.

“Bloodeater! Chosen One!”

This dryad is dressed in the same gothic-Lolita type getup as the others I’ve seen, but she’s a lot scarier. Really far onto the gothic side of the spectrum. She’s wearing black lipstick, her head is shaved, and her face and ears are covered in piercings. She’s wearing lace-up boots that go all the way up to her thighs. They’re horrifically high, with spiky heels that could take either of us out in a second.

“You’ve both been greatly disruptive to our Wood,” she booms. There’s some unearthly echo she’s managing, too.

“You,” she says, pointing a finger at Baz. Her fingernail’s six inches long, and painted purple holo. “You’ve been decimating the squirrels and the deer. We’ve hidden most of them in the circle of our protection to keep them safe from you. This unlucky doe got out.”

Baz tries to cast something, but the dryad teleports right in front of her and snatches her wand.

“And you,” she says, turning towards me. “Constantly hacking at our trees, trampling the undergrowth, making all sorts of a racket. You’re a menace.”

“I’m here to _stop_ Baz! I’m on your side here. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that.”

“We don’t ascribe to such simplistic thinking here in the Wood,” she replies. “You would find yourself better off if you opened your mind as well.” 

She raises her hands grandly. “But, since you are both but saplings, I’m willing to forgive. Bloodeater, you do not have to kill to survive. Chosen One, you do not need to destroy things in order to feel pleasure.”

“What does that mean?” I yell.

I try to slash at her, but she’s already fading away. My sword whips through leaves and glitter. An invisible force wrenches it, from my hands into the underbrush.

“Snow,” Baz lisps, her mouth full of teeth: “Run.”

“Why?”

And then Baz leaps at me, two fangs gleaming against plush lips. I hold her away, at arm's length, and she claws at me, her face twisting with agony.

“Fucking dryad made me thirsty,” Baz gasps. “I’m so thirsty…” Except she has a lisp, so it comes out more like “thurf-ty.”

She’s strong, inhumanly so. A predator that’s scented her prey. I strain against her shoulders with all of my muscles, holding her back. I push my feet against the ground to anchor myself, and I exhale, and I bear down.

I feel it, then - thick and warm and wet, the strange feeling of it leaving my vagina and soaking into my pants, then overflowing, and dripping in one single bright red tear-track down my bare thigh, emerging from the bottom of my school skirt around knee-level, and wrapping back against my calf.

Baz goes limp. I push her back until she’s against a tree, and restrain her as best as I can. It should be impossible, but she’s completely given up. 

She’s looking down. Her eyes are transfixed on the drop of blood.

The wheels turn in my brain. Baz’s strange behavior, one week ago. Her sudden fear and avoidance. Her reckless hunt today, in broad daylight.

“It’s because of my period, isn’t it?” I ask. “That’s why you’ve been acting so off.”

Baz turns her head to the side and squeezes her eyes closed. I see her fingernails cutting half-moons into her palms with the force of her resistance.

“It’s okay,” I say, without thinking. “You can drink it. I don’t need it anyway.”

She bares her teeth and hisses like an angry cat. She shakes her head, and her long, tangled hair falls into her eyes. I brush it away and tuck it behind her ear, and she whimpers.

“It’s okay,” I say, suddenly flush with pride. I’ve found the perfect solution. Baz won’t have to sneak out to drink rats when I’m on my period. I won’t have to worry that she’s out somewhere, seducing a Normal fellow so she can drain him dry. Sure, it’s only a few days each month, but it’s something. Maybe I can bottle it up and keep it in the mini-fridge the rest of the time.

“It’s all going to waste,” I say with a shrug. I let go of Baz and lean down, and smear some of the blood that’s on the back of my calf onto my hand. “Here…”

Baz licks her lips, then shakes her head. “Snow, you’re not thinking straight.”

“I completely am!”

“It’s too -- intimate.” She blushes, with the full force of the doe’s blood. She’s still thirsty, though, thanks to the dryad’s magic - she’s trembling with it, practically immobile.

“Oh. Well, yeah,” I say, suddenly embarrassed. “That’s - probably kind of disgusting, sorry. I can catch you something instead -- just, sit tight! Or --” I grab my sword and slash the blade against my palm. “Here. Is this better?”

BAZ

Simon Snow is a massive idiot.

She’s standing here, dripping blood between her legs, swinging that fucking sword, and then _cutting herself open_ in front of a hungry vampire. When, not ten minutes ago, she was ready to stake me, or at the very least to let the Coven pull my fangs.

Her blood smells incredible. The stuff pooling in her hand, sure - it’s got the burnt-sugar and bacon smell I’ve grown accustomed to from all of her scrapes and tumbles. But the menstrual blood? It’s richer, thicker. Almost chocolatey. Decadent in the worst possible way.

I can’t, though. I won’t. 

“Why?” Simon’s in my face now. “It’s a brilliant idea, Baz. This way you won’t have to go to the Catacombs -- or out to the Wood. It’s fucking dangerous back here, you know that? You’re lucky all you ran into was a dryad.”

“And you,” I snap. “When are you going to kill me, Chosen One? Or are you planning to drag me through a trial? Maybe they’ll let you snap my wand yourself.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Baz, I --” She grumbles, and throws her sword into the bushes. “I’m not going to tell anybody.”

“Why?”

“Why won’t you drink my blood?”

I don’t respond.

“Baz -- have you ever, like, bitten a human?”

“No. I don’t drink from humans...I’ve never tasted human blood.”

I brace myself for the accusations of lying, but she studies my eyes instead. “Okay.”

I raise an eyebrow, suspicious. “You’ve changed your tune quite suddenly.”

She opens and closes her mouth, then shrugs. “I just think it’s safest to do it this way. For, you know, both of us. And the wildlife.”

“Didn’t take you as such an environmental activist.”

“Well, it’s like Al Gore says. We’ve all got to take responsibility for the planet.” She laughs uncomfortably.

“Snow, you do realise you’re asking me to drink blood out of your _vagina_?”

“Or my hand, if you prefer!” She waves it in my face. It’s clotting now, but that doesn’t make my mouth water any less.

“I’m a lesbian,” I snap. And Snow stares at me. Now her lips are a little parted, and she’s turning red. Blood all over. She has so much _blood_. She’s so alive.

“Oh,” she says with a shrug. “Then it’s not a big deal, right?”

“And you’re straight,” I add.

She scowls. “You don’t know that.”

“Do you know that?”

“Kind of, yeah.” She swallows. “Baz...I --”

SIMON  
The shadow of a thought that’s been building as I follow Baz through the Wood -- a thought that’s lurked in my mind, rearing its head a hundred times. Watching Baz play football. Watching her leave the shower in the ensuite, in a cloud of fragrant steam. Watching her brush her hair every morning, and being transfixed by the way it flowed in darkness.

Watching her kill that doe - the elegant way she caught it and the quick, painless way she killed it. The tender way she cradled its head as she drank from it…

I was afraid. So, so afraid. Not for the deer, or myself…

For her. For what the Mage and the Coven would do to her if they found out.

Baz is still watching me, expectantly, and I realise I fell silent in the middle of a sentence. She’s about to make a smart comment, I just know it, so I blurt it out before she can.

“I fancy you.”

BAZ

What?

“What?”

“Yeah,” she says, crossing her arms and sticking her jaw out. I want to punch it. I want to kiss it.

“Since when?” I don’t know why I’m looking a gift horse in the mouth right now. No, I do -- I like to ruin good things in my life.

“For a while, probably,” she shrugs. “I - I just figured it out, though. Baz, you drove me fucking insane, avoiding me for the last few days. I thought things were getting better -- I thought we had a truce!”

I swallow. My heart is pounding out of my chest. Blood is rushing through my ears. I don’t think I’m in my body anymore. I still don’t believe any of this is real. I’ve fantasised about this for so long.

I’m going to kiss her, I decide.

And then she kisses me.

It’s hot, and wet, and it’s so fucking good. I can smell blood everywhere, and something else that’s just Simon. Her hair is as soft and pillowy under my hands as I’d always imagined. Her curves yield to my sharp hip bones, and her arms are solid under my hands. She smells so good, and I’m so thirsty…

I shove her away. My fangs, they’re still out -- what am I thinking…

“It’s okay,” she soothes. “You can drink from me...you can have any of it. Please. I want you to have it.”

I swallow, though it feels more like choking because my throat is so dry. I see another rivulet of blood on her golden, freckled leg, and before I’m aware of what I’m doing, I sink to my knees.

She gasps, and I hook my fingers into her pants. I pull - in two different directions, and they tear apart in my hands.

And then it’s there - nestled in fine yellow hair, covered in a sticky sheen of red, her pussy.

“You’re not wearing a tampon,” I murmur.

“I keep forgetting.”

“You’re a numpty.”

She threads one hand through my hair, and pushes her crotch against my face. I grab her around the thighs and pull, so she has to stumble forward, and brace herself against the tree behind me. I spread her apart with my long fingers and dive into the feast.

SIMON

It’s too much and not enough, all at once. My clit is swollen and sensitive, and my folds are wet and sticky with blood and arousal. She laps up the fresh blood first, then moves her head back to suck at my clit. She cleans that off, whipping her tongue in circles around it, spreading her spit everywhere. I feel an orgasm mounting already, and I hump her face, a bit, shoving her head further in and rolling my hips.

She moans, the sound vibrating through all the most intimate parts of me. I ride her face, and she licks and sucks. She breaches me with her tongue, and sucks the blood from inside me. She’s moaning even louder than I am. She can’t get enough.

I can’t either. Of her eating me out, obviously, but also of her sounds and movements. I thought it would feel powerful to get Baz on her knees for me. I imagined it, thousands of times, thought I didn’t know _this_ was how I was imagining it. Instead, I feel helpless, humbled. She takes me apart, even if she’s clumsy or unsure. She’s so hungry for it, and I feel so wanted I could cry.

I feel _good_. Not just pleasure...I feel complete. I feel like I’m filling her up, giving away all these extra bits of myself I don’t know what to do with. All of my anger and uncertainty, my rage and sadness and insecurity. And it feels...sacred. Because she’s eating me out, but I’m feeding her too. I’m quenching her thirst. I’m giving her what she wants, what she needs, and that makes me feel so _right_ , so worthy.

“I’m gonna come,” I gasp, finally, and she moans as my pussy convulses, and I leak a few last drops of blood into her waiting mouth. It hits me harder than anything I’ve ever given myself. I feel like I’ve run a mile. My abs and thighs are burning, and I’m tingling all over. The aftershocks of pleasure have me collapsing down on the ground against her, but eventually they settle into a pleasant hum in my bones.

“I love you,” I say, delirious, and she looks at me, with a bloody face and tears in her eyes.

“I love you too.”

“Can I eat you out, too?”

“If you want,” she mumbles. I watch her eyelids slip closed. “That’s…”

“Exhausting?”

“I feel like I just ate an entire chocolate cake,” she groans. “But in a good way. I can’t even walk anymore.”

I laugh. I settle against the tree, and pull Baz’s head into my lap. I stroke her hair until she falls asleep, and then, at some point, I fall asleep too.

I wake up in my bed in Mummer’s Tower. For a brief moment, I’m seized with panic that it was all a dream. But then I see Baz, still with blood around her lips, sleeping soundly in my arms.

Fucking dryad magic.

I stumble out of bed and into the en-suite, where I wash off in the shower and put in a tampon. Then I examine myself in the mirror.

I look golden, sweaty, happy.

I wet a flannel and clean Baz off. She barely stirs. She’s drooling on the pillow, which is as funny as it is adorable. Finally, I throw it aside. I settle in behind her, wrap my arms around her waist, and allow sleep to claim me once more.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! say hi on [tumblr](http://im-gettingby.tumblr.com)!


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